


Roman's Grotto

by TheLastSonata



Category: RWBY
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 06:27:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5529404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLastSonata/pseuds/TheLastSonata
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roman doesn't do Christmas. It's just a scam to make corporations money, but if they were making profits, he wanted in. And if a grotto was going to have his name on it, it was going to be the best damn one in the entire city.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Roman's Grotto

“After you Madam, I insist.” Roman doffed his hat as he held the turnstile open.

“Aren’t you sweet?” The grandma smiled at him as she shepherded two kids laden with purchases from the park. The sickening sentiment failed to dampen his mood. It was just too good.

Roman loved the festive season. Not for the presents though. Or the decorations. Or the carollers who should have been charged with noise pollution. No, he loved it because when the first flurries of snow blew in they lined the streets with gold. It was easy enough to make money the rest of the year. He’d always been gifted with _inventive economics,_ but now he barely had to try.

He didn’t even have to do anything illegal.

It was almost disappointing really. There was no thrill. No rush as he beat the system. Just mundaneness.

Still, money was money.

It was too easy. Bribing a fat hobo with a few bottles of spirits to sit in a park in a red suit would have been a successful venture all by itself. Finding a few midgets, and _appropriating_ a snow machine? That made it a licence to print money.

He just had to wait there and watch as all the annoyingly loud children ran about before being captured by their parents for an extortionately priced photo. It bemused him really. He didn’t get what was so special about it.

It had been going well until he heard of another chump pulling the same scam a few parks over. That simply wouldn’t do. Where was the professional courtesy that used to exist in the criminal fraternity? In the good old days there was respect. When you saw someone pulling a scam, even if you’d been planning the same one for months in advance, you shrugged your shoulders, said good luck, and tried something different.

These new guys just had no class. He’d been here first. They should have left him to it and rued their tardiness. It was what he would have done. What any self-respecting criminal would have done. But instead they were trying to steal his marks. Unfortunately for them, no one one-ups Roman Torchwick. No one. After he’d seen their flyers he’d decided to let them know just how a real showman pulls off a scam.

No one could get real reindeer into Vale. There were all manner of import and licensing issues, not to mention having to ship them all the way from the Atlesian tundra. It was impossible.

But that was what he did. He made the impossible possible time and time again. That was why when someone encountered an insurmountable problem his phone was the first they called. His extensive network of contacts had come through for him, and the reindeer had arrived within the week.

The baby ones were especially popular. He supposed he could see why some might find them cute. With their little noses and big eyes. The way they pranced around through the snow playing with each other. No wonder people were queuing around the block for a look.

Not that he found them cute of course. No, that would be absurd. To him they were just fluffy walking sacks of adorable lien. They were a good investment though; it wouldn’t do to just discard them. It would probably be worthwhile to pay someone outside of the city to take care of them until next year. That would be the smart thing to do.

After the reindeer had arrived he’d gone to visit all the other attractions that had sprung up in the city to gloat. To bask in their failure. They had been failing, and it had been glorious, but they hadn’t tapped out. They’d known they wouldn’t be able to compete with actual reindeer, so they’d done more with what they had.

They’d built brightly coloured facades meant to represent the workshops, hired actual actors. One had even procured an ice rink.

The fools. As if Roman Torchwick would be beaten by the likes of them! It had only taken one visit to the Eburnean House, a few wads of notes to grease some slick palms, and suddenly he was in the possession of a permit that allowed him use of the entire park. It was then that the other scammers must have realised they were all wasting their time.

They’d tried to imitate a winter wonderland, he’d made one. Vale’s main park had been transformed. The single snow machine had multiplied into a score. He hadn’t ordered facades constructed; he had entirely too much class for that. If he was going to sell people buildings, they were going to be ones they could enter.

They didn’t have to use their imagination. Inside there _were_ workshops. Filled with almost every toy under the sun, and complete with an army of elves going about their business. He’d run out of midgets, Vale just didn’t have that many in residence, and people apparently frowned on hiring children, so he was stuck with adults in costumes. Not that anyone complained. The kids who saw it even believed the whole charade was real. The idiots. It might have looked like the stories, but the brats should have known the difference.

Past the village, complete with its candy cane lampposts and hanging wreaths, there was a fairground. Sure the sound of kids screaming in enjoyment was annoying, but each decibel was more money in his pocket.

It had been easy enough to find amusement rides, but more difficult to find festive themed ones. Normally he would have said they were good enough. But right now he couldn’t allow them to clash with everything else, he was an artist. He’d had people working throughout the night to spruce them up, covering them in bells and holly until they fit right in.

On the far side of the park there was the lover’s forest. It didn’t strictly follow the festive theme, but hey… mistletoe. That was enough to justify it. The village and the rides might have attracted families, but he wasn’t content with that. Every young couple through the gates was an extra pair of tickets sold.

Of course there was an ice rink ̶ ̶ five times the size of the other guy’s he might add ̶ ̶ there were stalls selling roast chestnuts, hot cocoa, and everything in between. And all of them were paying him a cut.

There was something for everyone, and if the numbers kept up for the rest of the holiday almost the entirety of Vale would have visited. It was expected though. If Roman Torchwick was going to build a grotto, it was going to be the best one the city had ever seen.

All of this was slightly more expensive sure. As he looked back into the glowing winter wonderland he had to admit he might have gone a little bit overboard. But he was good at numbers. He’d still come out in the black. Probably.

Most of the people were there for another reason though. One that dropped down from the heavens.

“Ho… Ho… Ho,” the red clad figured boomed out.

He’d definitely gone overboard there, but one of the other scammers had a Santa in a sleigh. He couldn’t just do the same. Where would be the spectacle? It had taken him a while to work out the solution to that problem.

Unfortunately reindeer couldn’t actually fly like in the stories. He had that on good authority, and had resisted the urge to _check_ by helping a few of the reindeer off of Vale’s wall. In the end he’d had to dive back down into his list of contacts to find someone who might be able to sell him an aircraft engine.

It had been difficult. Only the SDC and the Atlesian Military produced them, and he wasn’t exactly on the best of terms with either. It had taken more cash to find one. It took even more to persuade the workshop that he was in fact serious about fitting a military engine to a decorative sleigh, and that, yes, it was possible to fly without it being ripped to shreds. Some people just didn’t have his vision. That wasn’t his fault. He wasn’t crazy like the mechanic had suggested, and he’d corrected that notion vigorously. He wanted a flying sleigh so that was what he got.

As it zoomed across the sky trailing a cloud of snow and to the sound of bells, he grimaced. It was a spectacle that happened multiple times a day, and he could only think of his money burning. Still he couldn’t pull it now, not when so many people were flocking to see it. He didn’t want to have to deal with all the crying children. They might get snot on his suit. People simply didn’t realise how difficult that was to get out.

After he’d spent so much on the sleigh a drunk hadn’t cut it anymore. He could just imagine the headlines; _Santa crashes sleigh into children and puppies._ The police might very well give up after not finding a lead for a couple of months, but the lawyers chasing compensation claims wouldn’t. They would hound him to the ends of the planet, and probably beyond that if he knew their blood-sucking type.

There had been nothing for it. He hadn’t wanted to spend the rest of his life dodging attorneys so the Santa had to change. The original one was too good to discard entirely though. The entire reason that he’d picked him was because even through the muck he was the spitting image of the part he was meant to be playing.

The only solution had been to book him a room in a hotel, get him cleaned up, and pay him with actual money, not booze. Honestly what was the world coming to when you couldn’t even pay a Santa with alcohol anymore? It was political correctness gone mad.

At least Santa hadn’t crashed though. The sleigh might not have been entirely accurate—much to his annoyance he hadn’t been able to find anyone who was willing to strap aircraft engines to live reindeer—but the crowds didn’t seem to care.

As Santa descended, just as he had every other day, there was awed silence. It was with great pleasure that Roman could say that the city of Vale hadn’t witnessed an actual flying Santa before, and marks were even coming from the surrounding villages and islands to see.

“Ho… Ho… Ho,” Santa boomed as he landed.

 _Honestly_ , Roman couldn’t help but roll his eyes. What kind of catchphrase was that? It barely made any sense, he wasn’t calling out for gardening equipment, and the parents certainly wouldn’t have been happy if he was requesting female company.

They were just random noises, but they were random noises that just so happened to be the most recognisable commercial phrase on the planet. The first person to come up with the whole Santa scam was a marketing savant.

Santa’s suit hadn’t come cheap. The first one Roman had given him had practically been from a gutter; it had smelled just like where he’d found the Santa. It hadn’t quite cut it though when he’d had competition.

The new one was handmade. Its red felt glowed and the white trim was immaculately clean. When he’d first seen the bill Roman’s eyes had shot out on stalks, but in the end, when compared to all the other expenses, he couldn’t skimp on what was meant to be the main attraction. It would expose the entire charade.

As the elves opened the gates to the landing pad Santa had to wade through a sea of screaming brats. That was the main reason Roman got out of their before Santa arrived. Drugged up on festive spirit the wretches were even more savage than usual. Any sane man would have feared for his life with that colossal mob of snot on the rampage, but he was pretty sure the guy he’d found to play Santa wasn’t entirely sane. If he was he would have done more than rub their heads and laugh.

The elves fought valiantly to open up a path to Santa’s grotto. He sure wasn’t paying them enough for what they were being asked to do, but that was capitalism. He’d actually hired artists to design the grotto. The people wanted magic and who was he to get in their way?

The parents who’d managed to rein in their children were patiently waiting in line under the ornamental snow covered trees and bushes that wound their way up to Santa’s chair. If he’d thought the parents were willing to pay an extortionate price before, he was shocked by what he could charge now.

If he’d required them to cut off a finger to let their kid sit on Santa’s lap and ask him for presents they would have done it. That was another thing Roman couldn’t understand. Surely even children could see it was just a fat guy in a costume. But they sat there reeling off everything they’d desired.

Still despite his own disgust with what he’d created, the park was raking in the money, and it would get better. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve. It should be the busiest day. That was why he was leaving early ̶ ̶ not just to get away from the children as they rocketed about on their sugar highs ̶ ̶ he had far too much to do tomorrow morning.

Even if the park would be closing in an hour, people were still queuing to get in. He attempted to calculate just what the average spend would be. He lost that battle, no one could count that high, but that was the reason why he was whistling. His wallet was full to bursting, and would get even harder to carry tomorrow.

The people he passed were in good cheer too. They might have been waiting in the cold, but it was the holidays. There were even elves moving up and down the lines with hot cocoa and mince pies, not free of course, but cheap. It kept them warm and happy. That was good for business.

He was still checking on the length of the queues when he walked past the entrance to a darkened alley. He froze midstride. A life of crime had heightened his perception. Improved his instincts. And they told him something wasn’t right.

He backtracked. There was a figure sitting in the entrance to alley, leant up against the cold walls, a discarded Styrofoam cup by their feet. All around everyone was in good cheer, but this person wasn’t.

It was what had caught his attention and, as his figure blocked out the light from the street, he caught hers. He recognised her reaction. He recognised the panic and he recognised the fear. It was the fear that said _he’s bigger than me, he’s going to take my stuff, hurt me_. Roman had experienced more times than he could count. It was one he wouldn’t wish on anyone.

Especially not on someone as vulnerable looking as the girl. She was tiny. Actually tiny. She could very well have played an elf, but she didn’t have a genetic mutation. She was just small. Even wrapped in blanket that was little more than a rag he could tell she was horribly thin. Life on the streets did that to you though. A fat hobo was a rarity, which was why he’d thought he struck gold when he found Santa.

If the girl’s weight wasn’t enough there was more. Her face and hair were absolutely filthy, and she had wide, terrified eyes. Heterochromatic eyes. They seemed to draw him in.

 _Damnit,_ he sighed silently.

The girl inspired in him the one feeling he didn’t want. The one feeling he couldn’t afford to feel. Empathy. If he felt sorry for every crime he committed, thought about the effect on the victims, the gig was up.

The girl made him feel though. He’d been in her position. He’d been out in the cold, in the wind. Relying on strangers so he could eat that day. Later on he’d taught himself ways to ensure he could, but back then, he’d been just like her.

He pulled out his wallet and extracted a note, then tripled it. It was the festive season after all. As he knelt down the girl cowered away from him.

“I’m not going to hurt you. Get yourself something to eat.” He held out the money.

Back when he’d been on the streets he would have snatched the notes out of the proffered hand. The girl didn’t. If possible she shrank from him more. That was weird. He was offering her a lot, enough that it could have fed him for weeks back then, but she didn’t take it. Perhaps she wasn’t right in the head.

He couldn’t cure that. He laid the notes gently on the floor a few feet away from her. She would either take it or leave it. He’d done his part. Someone else would be along to help later. Someone better suited. Someone who didn’t despise children. Someone who could take care of her properly.

“See you around kid.” He turned his back on her and could almost feel her relief through his skin. Just as he was leaving he heard her snatch the money up. Perhaps she wasn’t mad, just smart. Whatever the case he forced her from his mind as he made his way home. He had far too much to do.

 

 

That decided it. Christmas Eve was now officially his favourite day of the year. He’d been expecting crowds, but he hadn’t expected this. No one could have. His grotto had brought Vale to a complete standstill. All the other competitors had entirely given up. While theirs was almost empty, his was bursting at the seams.

Yesterday the line had been around the block. Today, it was around the city. He’d have needed to steal a Bullhead to be able to see both the start and end at the same time. He always felt proud whenever he pulled off a successful scam, and this was his greatest one yet.

It would take him days to count up how much he’d made. Not that money really mattered to him all that much anymore. Long gone were the times when he’d had to scrimp and save every coin. These days he had money under a dozen different names with every bank on the planet. He could retire and live a life of largess. But where was the fun in that?

He’d have shot himself out of boredom before the year was out. Or even worse, he might have been bored enough to try and play the hero like all those hunters. He couldn’t even imagine it.

He lived for the thrill of the con, of getting away with it, and at the moment he was getting away with it. He might have been wanted for a dozen crimes in Vale alone, but no one had connected those perpetrators with the entrepreneur running the grotto. That was what they were calling him in the papers, an entrepreneur. It was enough to make him laugh.

The only reason he was doing this was to rip everyone off. If he’d had his way it would have just been Santa and a few elves. It wasn't his fault others had tried to one up him. They were responsible for everything as much as he was. There was even talk of giving him an award for services to the city. The thought made him sick; he’d have to make sure he was long gone by that point.

Still, happy people meant spending people. He was literally raking it in. Every time Santa arrived in his sleigh, he may as well have had a vacuum cleaner to empty out the parents’ wallets attached to it.

Roman had lost count of the number of people who had come up to him and thanked him. In that respect it was the easiest scam ever. His marks were actually thankful to be tricked by a few decorations and a fictional character. Even the adults. It really didn’t make the slightest bit of sense.

He checked his pocket watch ̶ ̶ one lifted from the suit of Lord Estrella ̶ ̶ it was solid platinum and still engraved with his initials. He’d heard that Lord Estrella had turned his estate upside down when he realised it was gone. Of course by that time he’d been out of Atlas entirely.

The clock face told him it was time to leave. Santa was just about to depart and that meant mayhem was just about to be unleashed. Due to the numbers they'd had to change how they allowed guests into the park. Operating the normal one in, one out policy would have meant they only managed to get through a fraction of those who were waiting.

Instead they were completely clearing the park before they allowed the next few thousand in. If he’d thought the brats were rabid before, he had a new appreciation for the word. The moment the gates were open they charged.

Even if their time in the grotto was being cut short, the crowds around him were still exultant. They were all talking excitedly, showing off what they’d bought, what presents they had under their arms. How much they wanted to do this again next year. That made him smile. No marks were better than those who would fall for it twice. Next year, with a bit of planning, it could be even bigger and better.

Roman separated himself from the crowds and began walking up the line. They might have been waiting for hours but now, with the time clicking ever closer, they were practically buzzing with excitement. He scanned over them, trying to work out just how many…

 _Damnit_. A weight settled on his shoulders.

The girl was still there. Still in the alley. Still wearing the same clothes. Someone was meant to have come to her. Helped her. He shouldn’t have been feeling guilty about leaving her. She wasn’t his responsibility. There were people trained for this. That’s what other people paid their taxes for.

The girl hadn’t seen him yet. She might have been sitting huddled on the floor, but he could see the reflection of all the festive lights in her wide and longing eyes. He swore under his breath and approached her.

She jumped when she noticed him. It might have been his imagination, but he didn’t think she shrank back quite as much as before.

“Hey kid. It’s me again, Roman.” He crouched down close, but not close enough to threaten her. At least he spied a few discarded food wrappers on the concrete, she hadn’t gone hungry. It didn’t lessen the guilt though. “How you doing?”

She didn’t answer. She just stared. Some people might have found her different coloured eyes disturbing. He just thought them unique.

“Great start,” he muttered to himself. He really was useless with children. They could tell he didn’t like them. He just didn’t understand what went on in their minds. “I saw you looking at the park. It’s pretty isn’t it?”

No words, but there might have been the minutest nod. That was better than nothing.

“Do you know I actually own it? I’m in charge. If you want I can take you into it. You wouldn’t have to wait in line. And for free of course.” The word _free_ almost caused his tongue to turn black. But it was Christmas. One act of charity a year wouldn’t sully him.

Now he definitely got a reaction. She cocked her head ever so slightly. She still stared at him, but it wasn’t quite with the same fearful apprehension as before.

“I’ll let you in on a secret kid. See all these guys and girls behind me,” he gestured over his shoulder with a thumb, “They’re all suckers. This whole thing’s a scam.” That got her attention. Maybe there was more to her than he’d believed. “They’re all lining up. Just begging to give me their money. But you and me are different. Aren’t we kid? We can see behind the lies. That’s why you haven’t been a chump and lined up like them. You’re smarter than that. You saw through it all. Do you want to see how it looks from the inside?”

He didn’t actually believe that of her. She hadn’t lined up because when you had money on the streets you didn’t waste it on entertainment. But he’d read somewhere that you shouldn’t talk down to children. You should try and make them feel like your equal. And amazingly it worked.

The girl nodded.

“You want to go in?”

She nodded again. They were still tiny. Scared. But they were definitely nods.

“That’s great kid. I’ll show you around.” Maybe when he did the squeezing of guilt on his insides would disappear. “Do you want to go now?” The sooner he could get this over with the better. He gestured her to rise with him.

She did but slowly. Sitting so long in the cold had left her legs numb and unfeeling. She was even smaller standing, and younger. He’d thought her in her mid to late teens, now in the light he realised she might just have been into them. And that was pushing it. It was far too young to be on the streets.

Her hands were thin enough that her fingers were talons and she clutched her frayed blanket to her.

“You can leave that here.” He could tell she didn’t want to, but at the same time she seemed terrified to say no to him. She was almost trembling. “No one’s going to hurt you kid. You can keep it if you want. But I’ll buy you a nice new one. A clean, warm one. One with reindeer on it. Would you like that?” Again she didn’t give much of an affirmative, but she did carefully place her blanket on the ground.

Her clothes underneath were no less dirty but there wasn’t much that could be done about that.

“Come on then.” He took a step away and she hesitantly followed. At least that was one battle which he didn’t need to fight. She was over an arm’s distance away, far enough that she probably believed she could run, but at least she was following.

Out on the street he had to fight against the general flow of the crowd and she closed up behind him. He had to keep checking that she was there. She was so small she could have been swept away. As they neared the entrance he turned to her.

“What’s your name?” This time she shook her head. The one-sided conversation was becoming trying, but he could at least understand that denial. On the streets you barely owned anything. Your name was one of the few things that couldn’t be taken away from you. “I guess it’s ‘kid’ then.”

A few of those waiting, not so patiently, in line murmured to their friends as they thought they saw someone cutting the queue. Their opinion didn’t matter to him though. They were sheep, they could bleat as much as they wanted.

Those on the gates waved him straight in. It was only as she crossed the threshold did the girl actually seem to believe this was happening to her. If it was possible her eyes widened even more until they shone like orbs in the lights and her jaw fell open.

She was enchanted by what she saw. The winter wonderland stretched out before her, and at the moment, with the crowds locked away, it was all hers. She turned to him entirely overwhelmed.

 _Why did he want to smile so much?_ “Go on kid. You’re the boss here.”

That was the invitation she needed. But she didn’t race off like so many kids would. Instead she walked and looked over everything. Roman made a gesture to the side and the snow canons over the entrance sprung into life. The girl was suddenly a princess in her very own snow globe.

Normal snow was horrible. It was fun when you had a nice warm home to go back to, when you could play in it and then go dry off. On the streets you didn’t have that luxury. Snow got you wet, and it got you cold. The first snow of the year was the time to begin worrying whether you would make it through the night.

The snow from the machines was different. It was designed to be pleasant. It wasn’t in any way near as cold or as wet. It was meant to be fun and the girl was having fun. She twirled around with her arms outstretched. The kid had grace, he had to give her that, cleaned up she wouldn’t have looked out of place on a ballet stage.

With reverence she browsed one of the stalls selling overpriced festive memorabilia. She glanced side to side before picking something up. He recognised that as well, but she really had to improve her technique. Any half-decent security guard would have seen the furtive looks and guessed her intention.

Not that she had to steal here. Roman shook his head when the elf on duty went to say something. A few knickknacks wouldn’t hurt his profit margins. Rather than go for any of the toys though, with an encouraging nod from him, she pulled an antlered beanie onto her head. Smart kid. That was far more useful than a stuffed toy.

Still maybe she’d like one of those as well. When she moved onto the next stall and began stuffing her face with fresh mince pies as if she hadn’t eaten in days, he scooped a small reindeer up. He could admit it was a good representation of the calves in the petting zoo. He was sure that she’d find it cute, not that he did, obviously. Criminals didn’t have time for _cute_.

He picked a blanket as well. He’d promised her one, and a man who didn’t keep his word wasn’t worth anything.

“Hey kid slow down. You’ll get sick.” Shovelling food in was understandable. On the streets you never knew when your next meal would be, but eating so much so quickly would only have one outcome.

She needed food though, and a lot of it. Her thin frame would have been no defence against the winter cold. It was an awful time for someone as small as her to be living rough. “They’ll still be here later. Why don’t we go and see the reindeer?”

He honestly had no idea what kids liked, but the reindeer were the second most popular attraction behind Santa. Maybe she’d like them as well.

Again, very tentatively, she nodded. Her chin was splattered with mince and crumbs and he resisted the mysterious urge to wipe it away. “You got something on your face kid.” She dragged the back of her hand through the mess. On the streets a little bit more dirt really didn’t matter. He shrugged. “Let’s go then.”

If she’d been fond of the food, she was enamoured with the baby reindeer. When they surrounded her she actually smiled. And it was such a good smile. One of utter, unbridled childish glee. For that moment, as the reindeer licked her sticky fingers, the weight of the troubles of the world were lifted from her slender shoulders. She knelt and hugged them to her.

Roman lost track of time watching her. That in itself was unusual. Normally his timekeeping was superb. It had to be when you only had a small window before the cops arrived. He must be getting old.

It was then that he heard a sound that almost made his knees tremble. The sound of gates opening. The sound of screaming. The sound of the approaching horde. The parents had given up trying to control the monsters. They were too full of sugar, of energy, they streamed into the park at a run. Not caring who was in their way. Roman tried to get out of it but he wasn’t close to fast enough.

“Hey watch it Red!” he called as a young girl in cloak far too big for her bumped into him.

“Sorry!” she called out over her shoulder as she dragged an older girl along in her haste to reach the reindeer. “Ahhh… They’re so cute!” she squealed far too loudly.

Roman cursed under his breath as he checked his suit for scuff marks. Did Red not realise how easy it was to damage hand-stitched imported silk? Seriously kids like that should be banned from having sugar.

The influx of brats had made him uncomfortable and it had unsettled the girl as well. As the crowd did their best to smother the reindeer, and the elves on duty did their best to stop any fatalities, she withdrew coming to stand near him at the edge of the pen.

She jumped about a mile in the air when he draped the reindeer covered blanket over her shoulders. He realised he should have asked first, but she’d been shivering.

The scowl he received almost made him laugh out loud. It was a good one, full of such fire and venom. Completely out of place coming from such a tiny girl.

“Sorry.” He decided then that he didn’t want to ever get on her bad side. Someone who could scowl like that was going places. She didn’t shrug off the blanket though, instead wrapping it around herself.

Now that the park was a mass of flailing little limbs and shouts of excitement, he took her on a more sedate tour. She wasn’t the sole guest anymore, but at least she didn’t have to wait in line. They had a prime view of Santa arriving, negated slightly by the horde again, with their bony elbows, but the girl seemed to enjoy it.

The last thing he took her to see was Santa himself. Naturally those who’d waited weren’t too happy about him cutting in, but hey, he owned the place.

“Go on. Tell him what you want.” He knew kids enjoyed doing just that, though once again how they justified it to themselves was beyond him. She approached cautiously, stopping when she was still a few feet away.

“Come tell Santa what you want for Christmas.” Santa patted his knee.

The girl shook her head nervously retreating a step. It clearly flustered _Santa_ ; he looked at him quizzically. Roman shrugged, he didn’t know what was going on with the kid either. Most positively threw themselves at Santa the moment they had the chance.

 _Santa_ seemed to decide to follow his usual script. He heaved his bulk off his chair and knelt down near her. “Have you been a good little girl this year?”

She didn’t say anything. To be honest Roman was coming to believe that she couldn’t actually speak. Either that or she was incredibly shy.

“Well I know everything you’ve done.” The blood drained from her face. Santa didn’t notice. “And you’ve been a very good girl. What presents do you want?”

The news seemed to puzzle her. She cocked her head with the expression that was becoming so familiar to Roman. But she still didn’t speak.

“A pony?” Roman rolled his eyes. Why did Santa set such high expectations for the parents to live up to? No one got a pony. No one. Not unless they were the heiress to one of the Atlesian Houses anyway. The girl didn’t show any reaction to the suggestion. “A doll? A new scroll?” He clearly wasn’t use to this. Most children talked his ear off, listing a million and one things. “Umm… a new coat?” The girl nodded and Santa ran with it. “A nice black one? Red? Blue? White?” The slightest confirmation. “Big and warm? No… something more fashionable then. A jacket…” gradually with nods and shakes he managed to coax an entire outfit out of her.

The girl had weird taste. Very weird taste. It was almost archaic. She might have fit a few hundred years ago in the Atlesian court, but she was severely behind the fashion trend. Still it seemed to excite her.

Santa probably had to spend longer with her than with most, but Roman didn’t care if any of the parents were complaining. She was close to petrified of the camera too, fleeing from it when the elf approached.

“Merry Christmas.” Santa called as the pair of them left. Despite the incident the girl was smiling.

Roman’s phone went off. He didn’t like micromanaging. If someone from the park was ringing him something big had happened. Maybe one of the brats had choked to death in a way that made him entirely non-liable. Every silver lining and all that.

“I’ve got to go. Enjoy yourself kid,” he called over his shoulder as he picked up.

 

 

Sadly none of the brats had died. Instead a pair of them had decided to throw up. Everywhere. He’d had no idea two people that small could produce that much vomit. All he knew was there wasn’t enough money in the world for him to clean it up personally.

Other than that it had been a lucrative day. An incredibly lucrative day. Most of the stalls had almost sold out as the last of the stragglers made their way out of the park. The snow-covered grass was a mess of course, littered with cups and wrappers, but he was paying people to clean up. There was no reason for him to stay and watch.

It was late, but it wasn’t dark. The thousands upon thousands of lights saw to that. In comparison to his wonderland the rest of Vale wasn’t as festive, but the extra lights hanging over the streets ensured he could see easily.

He’d made it about halfway back to his apartment when he became aware he was being followed. It wasn’t a feeling that could really be explained. A light tingling on his neck. Hairs standing on end. He hadn’t seen his shadow at all; he only knew they were there.

He carried on normally. It probably wasn’t the cops; those under his thumb would have informed him if he was back on their priority list. Which meant it was likely someone he’d pissed off, maybe even someone else who’d tried to outdo him with their own festive attraction.

Turning a corner into a new street he ducked into the nearest alley. A decent tail would have been far enough back that they wouldn’t have seen him. He waited, and waited, and then he almost groaned. The forgotten guilt returned in full force.

“What are you doing here kid?” How she’d managed to follow him he didn’t know? If she’d picked up his tail at the park trailing him this far without his knowledge was seriously impressive.

She jumped when he spoke but then just stared at him forlornly. Still wearing her antlered beanie and wrapped in her new blanket, she appeared miserable. In complete contrast to the celebrating city all around.

She didn’t answer, but he’d been expecting it by now. He almost asked her if she had somewhere to go but stopped. If she was on the streets at her age either her parents were dead, or they didn’t want her. Surely he must be able to think of a charity or something that would take her though. No one should be sleeping rough on Christmas Eve.

It began to snow. Heavy wet flakes that pierced into his eyes.

He didn’t believe in gods. Like almost everything else in life they were a scam. But someone was scamming him at the moment. As he looked at her, huddling into herself against the cold, he knew there was only one option open to him.

It wasn’t like she would take up much room anyway. She was tiny and she wouldn’t eat much. He probably had too much food regardless. It’s not like she would get in his way either.

“Do you want to come with me? Get warm?” Again she only answered with her eyes. He’d take that as a yes. He started walking and she followed. It was a start.

They made it back to his apartment quickly. Neither of them had any desire to spend more time in the howling wind. He lived in the penthouse, naturally, and he held out an arm to stop her on the mat at the entrance.

She stank. He didn’t blame her. After a few days you stopped being able to smell yourself. You had more pressing concerns than cleanliness.

“You’re having a bath,” he left no room for discussion. “Wait here, and take off your shoes for goodness sake.”

When he returned from preparing it she’d followed his instructions. She was standing exactly where he’d left her, and her tattered boots were off but her socks weren’t much better. They were entirely black, and he very much doubted they had started life that way.

“And your socks.” She appeared nervous about that but he wouldn’t let her traipse dirt over his carpet. “Please,” a conman needed to know how to read people. Her soles were just as filthy and he threw her a towel. It would have to go in the trash when she was finished with it, but soon her feet were clean enough.

“Thank you. Just this way. There’s some spare clothes in there, if you chuck your old ones out I’ll wash them.”

She trailed after him, as silent as ever. As they walked he could see her looking around. She almost seemed disappointed.

“What?” His rent was extortionate, and they called him a criminal. Certainly for someone who’d been living on the street the décor of his apartment shouldn’t have let her down. He had no clue why he continued to vocalise his thoughts either.

The girl shrugged, and gestured through one of the windows at the Christmas lights an apartment across the street had set up, before back at his barren walls. Then she pouted. That was the worst part.

“Look kid, I told you earlier. It’s all a scam for the corporations to make money. The smart people can jump on board, but the smart people also don’t fall for it as well. I’m not wasting my money on useless decorations. Don’t look at me like that,” he shouldn’t have to justify himself to her.

He pushed open the door to his bedroom and the girl finally made a noise. Not that she spoke, but as soon as she saw his bed she staggered backwards until she hit the opposite wall of the corridor. On her face was utter betrayal and beneath the hurt, the pain, there was something else. Something that had no place being on the face of someone so young. Rage so deep, so powerful, it was psychosis.

The shadows in the room seemed to grow and his head span. _What the hell._ He hadn’t had that much to drink. _Had he?_ Through the pain Roman could sense she was but moments from fleeing. Or fighting. He didn’t want her to do either. She would hurt herself.

He put distance between them and spoke softly. “Kid I told you before; I’m not going to hurt you. My bathroom’s through there. You can get clean. Put on some fresh clothes. Take as long as you want. There’s a lock on the door as well. You’re safe here.” And she was.

His argument barely convinced the girl though. She was still pressed hard up against the wall, as if she needed every single millimetre between them. Roman retreated right into the far corner of the room. Her eyes flicked between him and the door to the bathroom. He could see her measuring the decision in her mind. She crossed the room in a sprint and slammed the door shut. The lock clicked.

Roman breathed out a sigh of relief, massaging his temples. The sudden bout of nausea had come at the worst time but at least she hadn’t fled. Maybe it was something he’d eaten? There was no way someone that young could… No it couldn’t have been.

He’d finished cooking by the time she reappeared. Cooking was actually an overstatement. He couldn’t. What he’d actually done was blast some things in the microwave and wait at the door for several takeaways. He hadn’t known what she’d like so there was a bit of everything. His dining room table was practically groaning under the weight.

It was amazing what a wash could do for someone. She was an entirely different person. Her skin was rubbed red, but when compared to before, it practically glowed with health. Her hair was no longer matted and its true light brown colour was finally revealed.

Unsurprisingly his wardrobe didn’t contain clothes for someone as small as her. He’d had to improvise. An old hoody from a concert many moons ago didn’t really work as a jumper, but it sort of worked as a dress. Its hem sunk below her knees and she’d had to roll the sleeves up multiple times to be able to use her hands. It didn’t fit but combined with the thick socks at least she looked warm.

“Everything ok?” He was getting better at reading her and he took the combination of her stance and slight tilt of the head as confirmation it was. “There’s food.” As if she could have missed that fact. It was met with much more enthusiasm though.

After one final look at him she dug in. He’d believed he’d ordered far too much. That after she’d stuffed herself with pies she wouldn’t be able to eat much. That she was tiny and wouldn’t have any room in her stomach anyway. He was wrong. By his reckoning, as he watched her shovelled plate after plate into her mouth, he didn’t know why she hadn’t exploded.

He didn’t eat much himself. He found much more satisfaction in just watching her gorge herself. After what seemed an age she slumped in her chair, even her voracious appetite defeated by the feast. She put her hands on her stomach and made a groaning motion, even if no sound escaped her. That suggested something psychological rather than physical.

He grinned. “Regretting stuffing your face now are you kid?” She nodded miserably. “Why don’t you go and lie down. We can watch a movie or something. It’ll help. Trust me.”

She staggered over to the sofa and flopped down on it. Roman thought about cleaning up but decided against it. It could wait. He sat next to her and threw her his scroll. “Go on, pick something.” Rather than flick through the catalogue of movies and cast one onto the TV, she just stared at the device. It didn’t even appear that she knew how to turn it on. He regretted showing her how to; she picked a movie so full of Christmas cheer it was he who felt like throwing up.

By the midpoint it was almost more than he could take. “Do you want dessert?” The lie down had helped, and she was sitting up entranced by the TV. She didn’t take her eyes off it but nodded. This time there was no hesitation.

He got her a tub of ice cream. Judging by how she’d demolished the feast, a bowl wouldn’t have been enough. Her first bite was tentative, the following were not. The predictable happened after a few seconds. Her mouth screwed up and she clamped both hands to her forehead.

He couldn’t help but laugh. That was too well deserved. “It’ll pass in a minute, but slow down.” He could fully understand the gluttony. All this must seem far too good to be true. The remainder of the ice cream passed without further incident.

They watched the movie in silence for a few more minutes before he spoke up again. “I can’t keep calling you kid. Do you want to tell me your name?”

She shook her head vigorously, avoiding his gaze.

“Fair enough. I’m not going to make you. But how about a nickname?”

With her head cocked it was clear she was deep in thought. Eventually she nodded.

 _Great, no pressure._ He knew she wouldn’t tell him what she wanted to be called. “What about Cindy?” She shook her head emphatically. “What about Martha?” Another shake. “Betty?” She looked at him crossly. Pouting.

Perhaps he deserved that. They were just the characters in the movie. He should probably put more effort into it. He cast around for inspiration, but there was none appeared. Eventually he could see her tiring of waiting. “How about Sofa?” A smile threatened to break through her pout. “TV? Chair?” His poor humour won out and she made the motions of giggling while shaking her head.

Not Chair then. That would really have been a poor name. He supposed it should pay homage to art. It wouldn’t do for her to stand out from the crowd. He looked at her, at her eyes, and then down at the tub on the table. “What about Neapolitan? No wait…” that was too much of a mouthful. “How about Neopolitan? It matches your eyes, and you could be Neo for short.”

She didn’t dismiss it straight away, but instead seemed to be mulling it over. He could swear he almost saw her lips moving.

“I like it. Neo has a nice ring to it.” He actually really did. It just seemed to fit.

 _Neo_ obviously thought so too. After about a minute she nodded, smiling broadly.

“That settles it then. Hello Neo. Nice to meet you.” He almost held out his hand to shake but thought better off it. Though they were sitting on the same sofa, there was still a gap between them. She probably felt safer that way.

She continued to smile. With her clean it was even better. The way her cheeks perked up, dimples forming. He knew she should smile more often.

They went back to watching the movie. It had been late when he’d left the park, and it was approaching midnight now. The excitement of the day was clearly taking its toll on Neo. She was struggling to keep her eyes open, but when he’d suggested they sleep, she’d shaken her head. Giving in he’d picked another Christmas film and put it on. It seemed to mollify her.

About halfway through Roman yawned deeply and noticed Neo had lost her battle. She’d pressed herself into the corner of the sofa where the upright met the cushions so only her back was showing. Having both her shoulders pressed up against something was probably something else that made her feel safe.

Gratefully Roman turned the TV off and stretched. He’d been sat there for hours with nothing but drivel to distract him. He was tired as well, but he couldn’t leave her like that, and he didn’t want to risk moving her.

There was a spare pillow and blanket in one of his cupboards. He got them down but paused in the act of laying the blanket over her. Something had caught his eye. Her hoody had ridden up in her slumber and exposed her calf. He bent down to look at the skin more closely.

He immediately wished he hadn’t. In the soft light, red welts were visible. Numerous and crisscrossing. Even on the two inches or so of exposed flesh there must have been close to a dozen. That’s wasn’t the worst of it. Beneath the welts there were white scars, a lot of them.

Fearing what he’d find he lifted the hem of the hoody higher. The welts and scars continued up her legs, and as he touched her she shuddered, holding herself tightly. He didn’t know how she hid the pain. He let her hoody drop and covered her with the blanket. Then he walked to window, trembling.

Her reaction to seeing his bed made a lot more sense. At the time he’d thought, hoped, that she believed he’d been grooming her. It was easier than the other possibility. The one he now knew was true.

Those welts and scars weren’t the remnants of a random attack. Instead they were signatures of systematic and sustained abuse. His hands knotted into fists. It could have been a family member, but it probably wasn’t. If that were the case she likely wouldn’t have reacted that way to his bedroom.

Instead she’d probably spent who knew how long in a place that catered for people with certain perversions. Sick, disgusting perversions. If she’d been raped repeatedly it would have been worse beyond imagining, but they hadn’t been content with that. They’d tortured her as well. Made her cry out, made her bleed, and then raped her. Who knew how many times?

No wonder she didn’t speak. He’d have been amazed if that was the total of her problems. It was incredible she was even this functional.

Roman’s jaw jutted as he watched the snowstorm. Most of the time he didn’t do violence. It simply wasn’t profitable. He didn’t enjoy it, but for some he was willing to make an exception. He couldn’t believe there was a place like that in Vale. He knew almost the entire criminal underground and he’d had no idea.

But someone would have. For the most part criminals, even the most repulsive, shared one rule: You don’t hurt kids. Period.

If there really was somewhere like that in Vale he would find it. And pretty much everyone he knew would want to pay it a visit with him. He could get the cops involved to cover their asses. They’d even want to join in. It would just be a police raid turned violent. And it would be violent. Karma’s a bitch, and she would be returning the favour to everyone who’d had the slightest bit of involvement.

That wouldn’t change what had been done to Neo though. He stood over her looking down at her neck. The faint bruises were visible now.

Despite everything she’d risked herself to come with him. She should have been repulsed, should have been terrified, but she hadn’t been. She’d followed him because he’d done something kind for her. Something that she might not have ever experienced before. She felt safe enough to fall asleep in his presence.

She trusted him.

And it was likely that she’d never celebrated Christmas.

Roman sighed.

_Goddamnit kid._

Neo had a rude awakening. Not that anything ripped her from sleep. It was just that on the streets a peaceful awakening didn’t exist. She bolted upright, spinning around frantically as she took in the unfamiliar surroundings. Through the cracked open door Roman decided to give her a few moments to gather herself.

The room was bright. There was the whiteness of the snow glistening in the sun, but there were also reds, yellows, blues, and more. All flashing at random. A complete cacophony of garish illumination that entirely overwhelmed the senses.

It probably didn’t help Neo that the room she’d fallen asleep in was entirely different to the one she saw now. The lack of Christmas decorations that she’d lamented when first entering had been fixed. And like anything, Roman didn’t do things by half.

Every inch of available wall was covered in lights, in holly, in fake snow. There were giant stuffed reindeer, penguins, and snowmen on the carpet. And of course at the centre of it all was a tree. It was so big he’d barely been able to get it through the door and its tip was bent over sideways as it scraped the ceiling. Its branches were equally weighed down by decorations and lights, but procuring those hadn’t been where he’d struggled. There were benefits to owning the city’s largest grotto.

The presents at the trees base had been a lot harder to source. As surprising as it had been, not many shops were open at one o’clock on Christmas morning. It was honestly shocking service and he was in mind to write a strongly worded letter. It was even more difficult due to Neo’s eclectic taste.

It had taken him hours to find the things she wanted, and by that time he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. It had been a fancy-dress shop, but at least that meant they had children’s sizes as well. The lock had been easy enough to pick, but he’d stopped in the act of the thievery and had deposited some notes behind the counter. It was Christmas after all.

He’d _bought_ a couple more things on the way back before wrapping the gifts badly and collapsing into bed. Though he’d only managed a few hours sleep. He’d needed to make sure he was up before her.

Neo had remembered where she was and was staring around in amazement. Her eyes lingered on the tree and more specifically the presents. He would have said she looked like a kid on Christmas morning, but then she was.

And it was about to get better.

Roman almost audibly groaned as he psyched himself up. It wouldn’t be that bad. Loads of people did it every year. They all looked like complete idiots too. He swallowed the vomit he was certain that was about to rise and pushed open the door. He couldn’t believe he’d lowered himself to this.

“Ho… Ho… Ho… Merry Christmas,” he did his best impression of a fat slob.

Neo had jumped up at his appearance, but now she hid her mouth behind her hand as she laughed at him. Roman swore under his breath. He was mortifying himself for her, and she was finding the whole thing terribly funny.

Maybe his suit didn’t fit, but he didn’t have the figure to play Santa, or the beard. His was fake and itching horribly.

“Ho… Ho… Ho…” Her silent laughter increased in quantity until she was clutching her sides and struggling to breathe. Roman dropped the act; he was a poor Santa anyway. He had far too much class. “Yeah… yeah… let’s all laugh at Roman. Merry Christmas Neo. All those presents are for you.”

There was a sea of them under the tree. He hadn’t been content to stop with just her new clothes, but had picked up anything he thought a girl her age might like. Neo turned to them, and her tongue poked out between her lips as she counted them disbelievingly. Anyone else would have found it unbearably cute. Not him though. That was at least what he told himself.

Neo turned back seeking confirmation. “No lie. They’re all yours. Go on, open them.”

She didn’t need another excuse. She was incredibly careful, ensuring not to tear the paper at all. She was amazed as her first gift was revealed, and her second, and her third, and every one after.

Roman was grinning as he watched. Every so often he would help her remove one of the plastic packages, but she had most of it under control. She even sorted her gifts into neat groups. The moment she unwrapped her outfit tears began to gather. He didn’t want that. He knelt down next to her and looked into the eyes she was named after.

“I was there when you told Santa what you wanted, and Santa delivers ok? This is all yours Neo. And I will be here for you, for as long as you want. No one is ever going to hurt you again. I promise you that. On my life.” He didn’t know why he’d said that? It certainly hadn’t been what he’d intended to say, but it was with some surprise he found that it was completely true.

His words only made her blubber more. Not what he’d intended. He got up and picked another present from the still masses of unopened ones. “I saw this and thought of you.”

Reverently Neo began unwrapping it. On his way back when he saw it in the window of the high class boutique, he’d just known it was meant to be. It matched the outfit, matched the person Neo obviously wanted to become.

Roman stood by her as she examined the beautifully intricate parasol. The quality of the craftsmanship was simply incredible, and he didn’t know if he’d left enough money behind in the store. He didn’t let it bother him, it might be Christmas but he was still a criminal.

Neo turned it over in her hands, looking at it from every angle, and then very gently she set it down.

“Is everything ok kid?”

Neo leapt at him. Before he could react she’d wrapped her arms tightly around his waist and was pressing herself against his legs. He froze. He simply didn’t know what to do. She was so short she only came up to his abs. She cried into his red jacket.

“There, there,” he said finally, tentatively patting her on the back. He didn’t understand the concept behind Christmas. Why everyone got so worked up about it. He didn’t understand kids either. He didn’t know how their minds worked. He didn’t know why she was crying, and he didn’t know why she was hugging him.

But most of all he didn’t know why he felt so warm on the inside.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: And some say his heart grew three sizes that day. So, not going to lie, this was so much fun to write. The story of how Roman and Neo met was always one I wanted to tell but it never would have fit into the books. So with Christmas coming up I decided to do it as a short. Yep, you read that right, short. I am quite possibly the worst author in the world at writing short things. I just have no idea how people do it.
> 
> So hopefully you now understand just why Neo is the way she is. That bit was not fun to write. And also why Roman is so protective of her. Inside he’s just a big softie trying to pretend he isn’t.
> 
> Anyway I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it, and a special thanks to my editor, rebkos, for suffering my first drafts. I hope everyone has a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.


End file.
